Z 10 Things I Hate About Shakespeare
by Fanatical Writer
Summary: After disappearing with no explanation for two weeks, Patrick Verona is back...but not in Kat Stratfords good graces. Watch chaos ensue as Patrick joins forces with Miss Perky to cast Kat in the school's lead play...as Juliet. To his Romeo!
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, look," Kat said sarcastically to her sister as she pulled into the parking lot of Padua High. "It's Chastity!"

"She's my friend," Bianca said.

"Then clearly you have something she wants," Kat surmised. "I'm just saying, what an ill-fitting name."

"Judge not…" Bianca said, and then brightened as Kat got out of the car. "Verona alert!" she warned as Kat opened the back door to get her book bag out.

"What?" Kat asked as she stood up. Her head wasn't quite out of the car and she bumped it on the doorframe. "Owww," she said quietly, as she rubbed the spot on her head that had been hit and slammed the door with her free hand. She turned around and _smack!_ Ran straight into Patrick Verona. "Verona!" she hissed to herself as she finally realized what her sister had said.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, falling into step beside her as she made her way to the school.

"Like the plague," she said dryly.

"Kat," he said.

She stopped suddenly and thrust her finger against his chest. "You don't call me for two weeks and now suddenly you want back in my good graces? Newsflash! I don't have good graces!" she snapped.

"Look, Kat—" he tried again.

"We have this…" she stopped herself before she said hot. _Close call, _she thought. "Mediocre…_kiss_ I guess you'd call it," she said scathingly. "And then—

"Whoa," Patrick said clearly offended. "Mediocre? Babe, that was the best kiss you've ever experienced!"

"You have how no idea how many _amazing_ kisses I've had!" she said.

"Wrong," he said triumphantly. "Yet another secret you divulged to me on the phone that night you called me wasted," he said.

"I don't believe you," she said.

"I have _never_ had a girl sigh _and_ whimper at the same time while my tongue is caressing hers," he said, stepping towards her and forcing her backwards. When she bumped against the tree behind her, he put his hands on either side of it, trapping her there.

"I was allergic to you," she said.

"Allergic to me?" he asked, amused.

"Well, to what you had eaten. Clearly you must have had shellfish. I went home, and puked my brains out." She put a finger to her chin and stared off into space thoughtfully. "Or was that from your kiss?"

"Wanna find out?" he asked with a grin.

"No!" she said, giving him a solid shove. She wasn't stupid; she knew she didn't have the strength to move him. He wouldn't have moved unless he'd wanted to. Luckily, he'd wanted to. "Stay away from me, Patrick," she said, walking away swiftly without a backward glance.

"Not on your life," he muttered as he watched her until she was out of sight.

---

"But Miss Perky! I got a letter from Brown saying they weren't going to accept me if this stayed on my permanent record!" Kat said urgently, following Miss Perky as she scuttled around her office. Leaving school in protest—especially with Patrick Verona—hadn't been one of her finer moments. She scowled at the thought. Her dad had been right. It wasn't quite worth the cost.

"Well, then I would guess you've learned your lesson," Miss Perky said, continuing her filing.

Kat closed her eyes and sighed with desperation. "Look, Miss Perky, _I _know you don't want me in your office. _You_ know you don't want me in your office. But you know what?"

Miss Perky sat down in her seat and opened up her laptop as Kat put her palms on the desk and leaned forward. "What?" she asked dismissively.

"You. Me. Standing date for coffee every day. Third period. It's my study hall. What do you think?" she asked wiggling her eyebrows.

"I think I'll talk to the principal right now and see what we can come up with," Miss Perky said, practically shooting up from her chair.

Kat shrugged. "That's all I ask, Miss Perky," she said, straightening. "I'll be by after lunch to see what you've come up with." And with that, Katarina Stratford left her guidance counselors office.

---

He waited until Kat was out of sight before pouncing on Miss Perky. He smiled to himself as he thought of the terminology fluttering about his mind. "Hey, Miss P.," he said cheerfully as he walked into her office.

Miss Perky took her glasses off and raised her eyes to his. "Patrick Verona," she said dryly. "To what do I owe this…" she looked him up and down, searching for the right word. "Displeasure," she finished.

He gave her his most charming grin.

"Is there something on me?" she asked, making a show of looking her arms up and down.

Patrick frowned as he leaned in for a closer look. "I don't see anything," he said.

"Well, then," she said sarcastically. "It must be my _skin_ crawling."

Patrick forced a chuckle. "Skin crawling." He pointed at her. "Good one, Miss Perky."

"Get to the point, Mr. Verona. _If_ you have one."

"Oh, I have a point," he assured her. "_And_ I have a reason for coming to see you. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Kat "Killer" Stratford," he said.

"Mr. Verona. Any meeting I have in my office with other students is confidential," she reminded him.

He bit his tongue as "_then you should probably close the door" _fluttered through his mind. "My apologies," he said with fake sincerity. "Anyway, the damage is already done and I can't reverse it."

"You're wasting my time," she said, her eyes returning to her laptop.

"The theater department is looking for a Juliet," he said quickly.

Miss Perky's eyes flew up from the screen and to his face. "Continue," she said, sitting back in her chair as if getting comfortable.

He grinned at her. He'd seen the way she eyed the theater teacher in the mornings before making her way back to her own department and realized that this was his shot to use it to his advantage. He shrugged. "We've auditioned everyone in class, and no one seems to quite fit the part."

Miss Perky guffawed. "And you think Kat Stratford could be Juliet?" she asked doubtfully.

"Miss Perky," Patrick said. "I think that with the right motivation, Kat Stratford could be the frickin' president."

"You're thinking Brown," Miss Perky said.

He nodded. "I'm thinking Brown," he confirmed. "And I'm thinking that getting Kat out of your hair _and_ getting on Mr. Cage's good side is like…two birds, one stone."

"Well, I like it. This may be the most creative moment of your high school career," she said appreciatively. "Now, scoot!" she said, her eyes once again falling on her laptop screen.

Patrick left the office sending up a silent prayer that this would work. Kat hadn't talked to him since he'd gotten back. How was he supposed to explain things to her if she wouldn't even talk to him? He hated that he had to trick her—oh, who was he kidding, he loved the chase!—into spending time with him. But as his grandad had always said: a Verona has to do what a Verona has to do!

In between third and fourth period, Patrick heard Miss Perky page Kat to her office. He grinned triumphantly as he made his way to his locker. Success!


	2. Chapter 2

"I _cannot_ believe this," Kat muttered to herself as she sat down on the steps next to Mandela.

"Miss Perky's not going to help you get into Brown?" Mandela asked sympathetically.

"Oh, no. She is," Kat said, taking her sandwich out of the paper bag it was in and then folding it up neatly and placing it in her book bag so she could reuse it.

"Well, then what's the problem?" Mandela asked, taking a bite of her low fat yogurt. Like most girls in her age group, she was forever on a mission to lose weight.

"There was a price," Kat said.

Mandela shrugged. "You expected there would be."

"I didn't expect that it would be dire!" Kat said dramatically.

Mandela's hand froze with her spoon halfway to her mouth. "You sound like your sister," she said with an eye roll.

Kat sighed and held out her hand. She couldn't deny her friends observation. "Slap it," she said.

Instead, Mandela reached out and gave her a light slap on the cheek.

"Thank you!" Kat said, then took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Perspective. There are starving kids in Uganda, homeless people on our very own streets," she said, giving herself a pep talk. She opened her mouth and let out the breath she'd taken. "Better." She took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Are you going tell me?" Mandela asked.

Kat chewed thoughtfully and then swallowed. "I'm going to be the lead in the theater departments' production of Romeo and Juliet," she admitted.

Mandela burst out laughing and slapped her knee. "Juliet!" she said between fits of giggles. "You could never get me with that one!"

"Mandela!" Kat said severely.

Mandela immediately stopped and one look at her friends face told her the truth. "Holy shit," she said softly.

Kat nodded.

Mandela shrugged. "Well, look at the bright side. Truancy will be off of your permanent record _and _you'll have an extra-curricular added to your transcript. Colleges love that shit."

"Yes, they do," Kat said. "Which is why I was thinking..." She lifted her eyebrows at her friend. "Set designer?"

Mandela laughed humorlessly. "You have got the wrong girl for _that_," she said.

Kat shook her head. "No, I don't!" she said. "Just think, Mandela. You get to paint school property. Legally!"

Mandela gave her friend an 'are you crazy?' look. "If it's legal, then where's the fun in it?" she asked.

Kat sighed. "You'd be saving me," she said.

"You're channeling Bianca again," Mandela informed her friend.

"What am I going to do?" Kat asked. "How am I going to get out of this, Mandela?"

"Here's a kooky thought," her friend said. "Maybe you could suck it up and just play Juliet."

"Well, there doesn't seem to be any other option," Kat said.

"Hmmm," Mandela said shaking her head. "This isn't going to do wonders for your reputation as a feminist. A chick that killed herself for a dude?"

"Mandela, Juliet left her entire family and inheritance behind so that she could make her own rules. When she was forbidden to be with Romeo, she didn't take it lying down."

"Oh, I seem to remember Claire Danes taking it lying down from Leonardo DiCaprio," Mandela said dreamily.

Kat rolled her eyes. "Now I think _you're_ channeling Bianca."

___

"The _lead _in the school play?" Kat's father said that night as they sat down at the dinner table.

"It's not a big deal," she said dismissively.

"_Not_ a big deal?" her father said. "Katarina, you're going to be up on a stage. With people watching you. I had always assumed that if you were surrounded by that many people, you'd be leading a revolution and they'd eventually be leading _you_ away in hand cuffs," he said.

"So did I," she said dryly. "Which is kind of what got me into this mess in the first place."

"Bianca!" her father yelled.

Her sister came running into the room. "Sorry I'm late, daddy. I was on a conference call."

"A conference call?" Kat asked doubtfully.

"Mmm-hmm," Bianca said as she sat down across from Kat. "With the other cheerleaders."

"And what, pray tell, were you conferencing about?" her father asked.

"We can't decide on which sneakers to get to go with our new uniforms," Bianca said.

"Call the national guard!" Kat said sarcastically.

"Daddy, would you please ask Kat to take her PMS pills?" Bianca asked sweetly as she placed a scoop of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"Juliet, easy on your sister. Her priorities are slightly different from yours."

Bianca's head flew up from her plate. "Juliet?" she said quizzically. "Did I miss something?"

"No," Kat said quickly.

"Don't be so bashful, Katarina," her father said. He turned to his other daughter. "Your sister landed the lead in the school play," he said proudly.

"Romeo and Juliet?" Bianca asked in astonishment.

Her father nodded.

"I didn't know you were trying out," Bianca said. Her sister looked way too calm. It was all over school that Patrick Verona had landed the part of Romeo—and the speculation over who would have to play Juliet was on fire. Since the only person Kat talked to was Mandela, and the only person Mandela talked to was Kat, Bianca was guessing that her sister had no idea who her Romeo was.

"It sort of fell into my lap," Kat said begrudgingly, moving the peas on her plate around with her fork.

"How does the lead in the school play _fall_ into your lap when you don't even go near the wing that houses the drama department?" Bianca asked.

"Long story," Kat said. "Can we please talk about something else?"

"When does practice begin?" Bianca asked, ignoring her sister's question.

"Tomorrow night," Kat answered.

Bianca grinned. "Well, it should be interesting," she said enthusiastically.

___

The high-light of Katarina Stratford's day was that she hadn't run into Patrick Verona once. The low—she was standing at the door just outside of the theater department with nerves she didn't even know she _had--_and they were jittering. She took a deep breath. "You are Katarina Stratford, and you can do this," she said, giving herself another pep talk. She had a sneaking suspicion that she'd be giving herself a lot of them over the next few months.

"Ahhh…'tis our Juliet," a man who appeared to be in his early 40's said as she walked into the room.

"Mr. Cage?" Kat asked carefully as she dropped her book bag by the door.

"Ahh, for these hours, I shall be known only as William Shakespeare," the eccentric man informed her.

"OK," Kat said, clearly not impressed.

"Now, if only our Romeo would deem to appear," he said. And then, to Kat, "Our fair Juliet, you may pick your script up on the table over there," he said, nodding his head in the direction of a small table with piles of paper stacked on it.

Kat made her way over to her table and found the script with the name 'Juliet' at the top and proceeded to thumb through it. She was pleased to see her part was already high-lited.

She went over to the side of the makeshift stage and took the steps leading up onto the platform and towards the people standing together studying their scripts. Kat was back to the door when she heard it swing open, and then, "Ahhh, 'tis our Romeo," Mr. Cage said appreciatively.

"Sorry I'm late, William," came the unmistakable voice of Patrick Verona. "I was changing the oil in my motorcycle in shop class and I lost track of time," he said.

Kat swung around and met his eyes. Eyes that were laced with triumph. "I don't think so!" she said.

"My Juliet," he said with a grin.

"I am not _your_ anything," Kat said, springing into action. She made her way to the steps and flew down them. Miscalculating, she missed the last one and her heel hit the floor at lightning speed. She continued to skid straight ahead. Had it not been for Patrick's' quick reflexes, she would have skidded straight into the table holding the scripts. She winced as she could just picture them flying in a dozen different directions. As he grabbed her, she instinctively grabbed him back on the forearms to steady herself.

"Easy there," he said with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Juliet doesn't throw herself into Romeo's arms until near the _end_ of the play."

Kat gave him a half hearted shove as she straightened and then took a quick step backwards. She nearly tripped again and had to steady herself. Patrick stood there and crossed his arms, the humor in his eyes gleaming even more brightly.

"Well, this play has _one_ thing right," Kat said heatedly.

"And what's that?" Patrick asked patiently.

"From this day forward, the Stratford's and Verona's are sworn enemies!" she said dramatically. If Mandela were here, she'd say that she was channeling Bianca again, but Kat couldn't seem to help it. Patrick brought out sides to her that she didn't know existed, and apparently—this was one of them. With that, she spun around once again and made her way up the steps to the platform filled with the waiting cast members.

"Then I shall change my last name to Smith," Patrick yelled to her back. And as usual, his voice was filled with amusement.

Kat decided that she was going to steal a page from Juliet's life—she was _not_ going to take this lying down!


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: I just want to thank everyone for the reviews this story is getting. I hope you're having as much fun reading it as I am writing it!_

"So, how was it?" Bianca asked, leaping up from off the couch and making her way to the front door as her sister walked in. "Was it everything you imagined?"

"And more," Kat snapped.

"Oh, _do_ tell!" Bianca said.

"Look, Bianca, I really—" Kat's eyebrows came together as understanding dawned. "You _knew_," she said angrily.

Her younger sister shrugged her shoulders. "The only thing I know—is that I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I should kill you," Kat said. "But you're lucky. I'm too emotionally drained from having to ignore Patrick Verona for the last two hours _and_ I have a test in Physics tomorrow." She started walking to the flight of stairs that would lead her to her bedroom.

"Supper's on the table," Bianca told her sister.

"I'm not hungry," Kat said.

"Daddy will be mad," Bianca said.

"Good. Since I won't be there, he can take it out on _you_," Kat said. It was a small win, but she'd take what she could get.

"Don't you dare let me eat alone with him!" Bianca hissed. "He delivered a set of twins to a 15 year old today! Do you know what this means?"

"Yes. It means mucus plug; it means placenta--"

"Kat!" Bianca said desperately. "Please."

Kat froze on the stairs. "Next time, you might want to think twice before feeding me to Patrick Verona…without any notification," she suggested. And then, "Have fun with dad!"

When Kat got to her bedroom, she closed the door gently and sank back against it. She'd had to force herself not to slam it shut. "Patrick Verona!" she said furiously. "What are the chances that I'd get cast the lead in the school play opposite _Patrick Verona_?" she thought out loud. With a heavy sigh, she dropped her book bag and walked over to her bed, then fell backwards onto it and stared up at the ceiling. _Seriously, _she thought. _Is God up there laughing? What did I do to deserve this?_

She covered her face with her hands and groaned. Kat wasn't stupid—she _knew_ she and Patrick had chemistry. And sizzling was the first word that flew into her mind to describe it. She sighed again at the thought of the kiss they'd shared. But Kat _was _desperate. She couldn't spend the next few months working opposite him—as his love interest. She'd have to kiss him again. And again, and again. She wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't melt against him. Oh, she'd never admit that out loud, because after all, Katarina Stratford had a reputation to uphold. But the one person she_ couldn't_ lie to was herself. She'd tried.

The last time she'd seen Patrick before he'd staked her out at his car yesterday morning had been two weeks prior. She'd been so stupid to even consider leaving with him over his stupid locker/book bag search. She'd been trying to make a statement, but the only one ringing through her mind was, _well, you really proved to him what an idiot you are._

Kat closed her eyes as she remembered what had followed their impressive exodus from school.

_"Where are we?" Kat asked as she took off her helmet and looked around. She didn't recognize any of her surroundings, but she was new in town, so it wasn't uncommon._

_Patrick got off of his motorcycle and looked out at the expanse of salt water. "It's just a stretch of beach on the ocean that hasn't been compromised yet," he told her. "But don't worry. I'm sure it will be exploited soon," he said dryly._

_Kat grinned. "What is our society doing to our land?" she asked in a teasing voice._

_Patrick started walking away. "Come with me," he said over his shoulder, "and I'll show you."_

_She pulled her leg over the motorcycle and then put her helmet down on the seat and her book bag down beside the motorcycle. She ran the few steps to catch up with him. "Where are we going?" she asked._

_"To the biggest house on the beach," he told her with a twinkle in his eyes. "So, why did you come with me?" he asked as he stared straight ahead. He placed his hands in his pockets to warm them. It was always chilly on the ocean. He couldn't imagine how cold Kat was in her skirt._

_Kat shrugged. "Because I want to change the world," she said simply._

_"The __**real **__world?" he asked, with a teasing grin._

_"Right now, high school __**is**_ _my real world," she told him._

_He nudged her shoulder with his. "You may have just given up Brown for me," he said._

_Kat gasped. "If I lost Brown, it was __**not**__ for you," she argued._

_"It is in my head," he told her._

_"A legend in your own mind, Verona."_

_"At least I'm a legend in somebody's," he joked._

_They walked along the beach for several minutes until they came to a huge house—borderline mansion—Kat thought. _

_Patrick stopped and looked up at it. "Let's see just how rebellious you __**really**__ are," he threw over his shoulder as a taunt before he started jogging ahead._

_"What—where are you going?" she asked._

_"I'm gonna enjoy the view," he yelled without looking back. "On someone __**else's**__ dime."_

_"But—this is trespassing," she said, struggling to catch up with him._

_"That's the point," Patrick said, as he started climbing a white colored beam that led up to a portico attached to the second level of the lavish house. "Scared?" he asked as he continued his climb._

_"I'm not scared," Kat told him._

_He grabbed one of the spindles on the outer part of the deck and pulled himself over the side. When he got up there, he wiped the palms of his hands on the pants of his school uniform. "Prove it," he said, looking down at her with challenge in his eyes._

_Kat sighed and made her way over to one of the beams supporting the structure. "I swear to God, Verona, if the wind blows and my skirt goes up and you try and steal a peak—"_

_"Give me some credit," he said. _

_With a last sigh, Kat started to climb the piece of wood, but couldn't get any footing on it. On her first attempt, she fell, but landed on her feet. She looked up at Patrick, but to her surprise, he wasn't laughing. He put his hands on the railing and coached her through the ascension._

_When she got close to the top, he took her hand and assisted her with getting over the side. "Thanks," she said, as she made her way over and stood in front of him. Neither of them spoke for a moment. "So, now what do we do?" she asked._

_Patrick looked at her and grinned. "We enjoy the view," he told her, sitting down in one of the lounge chairs._

_She looked over her shoulder at him and took in the seat next to him. She made her way over and sat down, her eyes taking in the view. "This beats Physics," she said, looking over at him. "In spades."_

_Patrick nodded with a grin. "I couldn't agree more," he said. And then, "Oh, I almost forgot." He jumped up and walked over to a small refrigerator in the corner. He opened it and took out a bottle of what Kat assumed was wine, then took two long stemmed glasses from the cupboard attached to the outer wall of the house._

_He poured them each a glass and then walked over to Kat and handed her one. She held up a hand."No, thank you," she said. "I don't drink."_

_"Since when?" he asked with a grin._

_"Since one of my many personality facets is drunk dialing," she said dryly._

_"It's grape juice," he told her._

_"Oh. Well, in that case…" she took the glass from him and took a sip of her drink as he sat back down next to her. "We really shouldn't be doing this," she said._

_"Why not?" he asked._

_"Trespassing is one thing, but stealing…"_

_"We're not trespassing," Patrick admitted._

_Kat sat up and swung around, looking at the French doors. "This is your house?" she asked._

_"Not exactly," he told her. "It belongs to my grandfather."_

_She cleared her throat. "Then why didn't we come in through the front door," she asked._

_Patrick took a large swallow of his grape juice. "He doesn't exactly __**know**__ that he's my grandfather," he explained._

_"What?" she asked carefully._

_Patrick looked over at her and grinned—but the expression didn't quite meet his eyes. "Apparently my mom was a 'wrong side of the tracks' kind of girl." he told her. "My birth father never got around to telling his family that he'd knocked her up. It made it a hell of a lot easier for him to leave her. And me."_

_"Patrick…" she said softly._

_"Oh, well," he said with a dismissive shrug. "What's that expression? 'Let sleeping dogs lie?' That's what I try to do," he told her._

_Kat nodded, not quite sure what to say. She jumped up as she heard a noise from inside._

_"Shit!" Patrick said, as he, too, soared out of his chair, their glasses of grape juice forgotten. "We need to motor," he said, as he sprinted over to the railing. He made his way over the side, and Kat was quick to follow._

_He made it down way before she did, and he heard the door open. "Kat, jump!" Patrick said in a loud whisper._

_"Are you crazy?" she asked shrilly._

_"No. Just not excited about being caught!" he told her urgently._

_Kat looked down at him then closed her eyes and let go. She landed on her feet, but would have toppled over had he not grabbed her upper arms to steady her. When he was sure she was steady, he grabbed her hand, and they took off running down the beach. They could hear someone yelling behind them, but they weren't about to stick around to hear what was being said._

_When they got to the motorcycle, Patrick jumped on, and tossed Kat the helmet. "Quick!" he instructed._

_She did as she was told, with no argument for once, threw her book bag over her shoulder, and then hopped on behind him and they sped off away from the beach._

_By the time they got back to school, the parking lot was deserted and Kat's was one of the only cars left. She got off the motorcycle, and took her helmet off, handing it to Patrick. He took it with a smile, then Kat turned towards her car and reached into her bag for her keys. When she turned back around to say good-bye, he was standing right there. She hadn't even heard him get off the motorcycle._

_"You surprised me today, Kat," he told her._

_"Why?" she asked in a small voice. He really was __**very**__ close._

_He reached up and tucked a strand of windblown hair behind her ear. "Well, let's see," he said. "It all started with suspension. Followed up with a twist of trespassing, breaking, entering—"_

_"We didn't enter!" Kat contradicted with a nervous laugh._

_"No, we didn't enter," he said softly, his eyes staring into hers. _

_Kat couldn't bring herself to close her eyes as Patrick's face descended on hers. But when their lips met, her lids slid closed of their own accord. She parted her lips slowly, and he seized the opportunity. He slid his tongue inside of her mouth and he searched for hers. His kiss was a slow kiss, and Kat couldn't help but sigh from the contact. When his tongue began to move more urgently, Kat's reciprocated, and her hands came up to the waistband of his pants and pulled his lower body against hers. She leaned back against her car, and it was like Patrick's body was molded to hers. He fell with her, lifting his hands to her face and cupping it. She whimpered in longing. When he pulled away, Kat couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She sighed with satisfaction instead, and then her lids fluttered open. To see Patrick Verona staring down at her face with a grin. She couldn't move; it was as if she were frozen in place. She could only watch as Patrick made his way to his motorcycle, put on the helmet she'd been wearing a few moments before, and started his engine. "I'll see you later," he said with a promise in his eyes._

But she hadn't seen him later. And she hadn't seen him the next day, or the day after that. In fact, she hadn't seen him for two weeks. Patrick Verona had made a fool out of her. And Kat Stratford did _not_ like being made a fool. She grinned at _her_ favorite expression. _Turn about was fair play._


End file.
